


this mirror isnt big enough for the two of us

by robsunnies



Category: It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, mentions of disordered eating
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-27
Updated: 2019-02-27
Packaged: 2019-11-06 03:12:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17931743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/robsunnies/pseuds/robsunnies
Summary: dennis has another bad night





	this mirror isnt big enough for the two of us

**Author's Note:**

> hey pals, tw for mentions of disordered eating so be careful !  
> title is from "honey, this mirror isnt big enough for the two of us" by my chemical romance :-)

3:27 AM 

The digital clock on their dresser was practically burning the numbers into his eyes. His body felt uncomfortable. His mind felt broken. He sat up quietly as to not awake Mac who was sleeping peacefully next to him. Dennis could feel the tears start to well up in his eyes, but he tried to fight them back. Tried. They came out anyway. He felt disgusting. Mac made him eat something before he slept, and usually, that doesn’t affect Dennis, but tonight he was tipping over. He could feel the beginning stages of panic settling in. He buried his face in his knees and rocked back and forth for a couple of moments. He quickly got up from the bed and walked into the bathroom and flicked the light on.

With a shaky hand, Dennis closed the bathroom door. He pressed himself up against the wooden door. All he could feel was the hot tears pouring down his cheeks. His breathing was erratic, Dennis could feel himself deteriorating from the inside out. He doesn't want to look into the mirror, no, he knows he won't like what he’ll see. But he knows he has to. He needs to know if the outside matches the inside. Dennis roughly wiped the tears that were blurring his vision with his palms and stood in front of the bathroom counter.

He didn't recognize the man looking back at him.

The man in the mirror looked back at him with an expressionless stare, his once glimmering blue eyes were now void of any emotion, appearing almost dead. His skin looked dull and worn from never leaving it alone. His rib cage looked more and more pronounced every time he saw himself. He disgusted himself.

The man looked too frail like even a slight breeze was enough to blow him away like sand.

Nothing that this man was what Dennis saw himself as. There was a dissonance between his mind and his physical self.

Dennis’ mind starting racing, thinking of new ways to cut down on his eating. Thinking of new ways where he could be more in control of his body. Mac was already catching on to his old habits, it was time to reinvent.

All of a sudden, everything became too much. He felt himself start to sway and quickly grabbed on to the countertop to balance himself before he fell over. His head hurt, it hurt too much. Every sound in the apartment became amplified and his own heartbeat sounded like drums in his ears. He wanted it to stop. He wants it all to stop. He regained composure and looked at his right hand before swiftly throwing a punch at the mirror. He felt nothing, but he could see the blood trickling down his knuckles. He punched, again and again, his screams filling the small shared bathroom.

Dennis reached his limit.

He slowly let himself sink to his knees on the floor, not caring about the pieces of glass on the floor digging into his skin. His sobs found their way out of him and were making themselves heard, rattling his entire body.

_"Shit!"_

He couldn't open his eyes, but he knew Mac found him. He doesn't know what the bathroom looks like or what he looks like. He could hear Mac yelling at him, begging for him to look at him, but he can't. Looking at him meant he was admitting guilt, and he won't admit to what he did and why he did it. He refuses. He'll let it sit until the next time he boils over. Mac was kissing Dennis' face, he felt his lips on his cheeks and his forehead, but he was simply an empty vessel. Mac's kisses could never reach him. 

He could hear Mac leave the bathroom, and he felt the crashing of a wave in his mind. He got himself up off the floor and propped himself against the tub, the cold was numbing his bare skin. He needed to clear his mind, but he couldn’t find the energy to walk.

He watched the blood from his bruised knuckles form small pools on his legs and on the floor tiles. He threw his head back, he didn’t want to deal with this anymore.

His brain was screaming at him, screaming that he wasn’t worth it. He didn’t deserve the love he was getting. He didn’t deserve to get better. He deserved to suffer and feel like shit when he skipped his meals and exhausted his body at the gym. 

A voice was pulling him out of his thoughts, but he couldn’t tell where it was coming from or what it was saying. It sounded too far away. His eyes pried open and he saw Mac, his face was blotchy and his usual puppy dog eyes looked sad and watery. Dennis didn’t want this. He wanted none of this. He didn’t want Mac’s fucking pity. He wanted to push Mac off him and tell him to fuck off, but his voice felt rough and he didn’t feel in control of his limbs, they were far too heavy for him to move. 

Mac’s mouth was moving, but Dennis didn’t know what he was saying. Was he talking to him? Or himself? Was he praying? The last option flipped something in him, how stupid of Mac to think that his God could fix him, the true Golden God. The Golden God could help himself, he didn't need some made up man in the sky to tell him how to live his life, he was Dennis Reynolds. He knew best. He always does. Mac finished wrapping up his hand and pressed a soft kiss to the back of his hand. The sheer tenderness of that moment almost broke Dennis out of the storm of anger and sadness. Almost. 

Dennis thought his brain was stupid, not intellectually of course. He had graduated from an ivy league school, he studied psychology; he was smart. But he was emotionally stupid. That part of his brain didn't develop right in the womb. There were things about himself that just never made sense. He never knew how to react correctly to situations. He either felt too strongly or felt nothing at all. Dennis could never tell what would set him off next. Dennis knew he was the most attractive out of his friend group, and quite possibly all of Philly, but yet there was something in him that vehemently rejected any thoughts of perfection. Whenever he looked at himself, he could make a list a mile long that detailed everything that was wrong with the way he looked. 

“Den? Do you… wanna talk about it? Like… what happened?”

Oh, Mac. He was so naive. So stupid. He knew Dennis would never tell him the truth, but he asks anyway.

“Why are you here? Why are you with me? Don’t you get tired of dealing with my bullshit all the time?”

He almost didn’t recognize the voice leaving his mouth, the words sounded pathetic. It was like an automatic response.

“Dennis,” Mac replied, voice barely louder than a whisper, “you know I care about you. And this type of shit scares me. I never know what I’m gonna walk into when I come in the bathroom. I want you to be safe.”

There he goes again with his protective bodyguard mentality. Dennis isn't a child, he doesn't need someone constantly looking over him. 

“Thanks... for everything” he breathed out.

He looked around to see the damage he had done. The mirror was completely shattered, there were glass pieces all over the counter and floor, but Mac pushed the mirror bits on the floor aside so they could be sitting together, knees bent and facing each other. Dennis examined the bandage and almost laughed at the fact that Mac had to be buying bandage wraps almost every two weeks. Laughed in disbelief. With his good hand, he cradled mac’s face and caressed his cheek with his thumb. Mac melted into his touch, closing his eyes and turning his head ever so slightly to kiss his hand.

“I won’t do it again.” 

They both knew that was a lie. But Dennis knows that Mac finds comfort in his false promises, even though he knows he’s going to be let down soon enough.

Mac’s comfort could only do so much, it just made the screaming in his head quiet down a notch. He still wanted Mac gone, didn’t want him to touch him or see him in this imperfect state, but also Mac was so good at making Dennis like he was the only one that mattered in the world. He didn’t want the night to end, he was scared of the next day. He was scared to see what was going to happen tomorrow, or the next day, or the day after that. 

“Come on, bed.”

Mac stood up, holding a hand out for Dennis. He looked up at the other man but didn’t take his hand. He wasn’t deserving of this amount of attention Mac gave him. Mac looked at him pensively for a couple seconds before removing the t-shirt he had been sleeping in and handing it to Dennis. 

“It’s cold as shit dude, put this on.”

The smell of the shirt comforted him. He was around Mac basically all day, both at work and at home, but this was more intimate. Dennis slipped on the shirt as best he could with his injured hand and Mac bent down to wrap a strong arm around Dennis’ now clothed torso. Dennis slung his arm around Mac’s shoulders and held on tight and they walked to their bed. 

Once they settled in, Mac held Dennis close to him as he drifted off to sleep. Dennis placed a soft peck on Mac’s nose and drowned out any voices in his head as sleep swept over him.

**Author's Note:**

> is it projecting-yourself-onto-dennis o'clock?


End file.
